ACROSS THE POND
	By Joe Sinclair (The Brit)

This article is a departure from my usual well-researched offering.  In fact it is mainly a dissertation upon the joys and perils of house-hunting in Europe - an activity that has taken up time that might have been devoted to my bi-monthly 50-plus column.

For most of the month of October I have been house-hunting for a holiday home in Germany and France.  [I'm looking in both places, but just to correct any impression that I am a property developer, I will buy a home in only one of the two places to be used by myself and my family!]

Earlier this year I sold a holiday flat on the south English coast as changes in British tax law would have increased my liability to local taxes by 50 per cent, and maintenance charges had also increased substantially.  So, having bought the apartment five years earlier, before the current property boom had exploded, I "took my money and ran".

My intention was to buy something cheaper in mid-Wales (a very scenic area of Britain), but negotiations for one house got bogged down in survey, just at the time that I got involved in the executorship of my late aunt's estate (to which you have already been sufficiently exposed), and I could not spare the time.

This turned out to be something of a blessing as I was recommended to try the European mainland where properties are still affordable, but prices increasing steadily.  This trend will inevitably continue as more and more countries join the European Union.

Two weeks ago, in company with my younger daughter, I explored the area of Bavaria that adjoins the Danube river and have put one or two houses "on hold" for further consideration. 

Next week I shall be looking at houses in central France, accompanied by a dear friend (who assures me she used to be one of my wives!).  My main objective is a large old house, with barn, workshop/garage, orchard with fruit trees, and a trout stream in Burgundy, at a price which seems a "steal".  Then I shall go to Alsace (on the French/German border) where a friend already has a home.

Two views of the property in Burgundy

I'll report success or failure and relate any interesting experiences in my next (pre-Christmas) article.

I am grateful to my dear friend and 50+ Circle colleague, Susan Helene of Old Souls Station (http://www.osstation.com) for a series of comparisons that fit in perfectly under this banner.  I've changed some of them slightly to reflect differences between the British and the American approach.

In 1953 the US population was less than 150 million.  Yet you knew more people then, and knew them better... And that was good.

The average annual salary was under $3,000.  Yet our parents could put some of it away for a rainy day and still live a decent life... And that was good.

A loaf of bread cost about 15 cents. But it was safe for a five-year old to skate to the store and buy one... And that was good.

We didn't have air-con ditioning, so the windows stayed up and half a dozen mothers ran outside when you fell off your bike... And that was good.

Your teacher was either Miss Matthews, or Mrs. Logan, or Mr. Adkins, but not Ms Becky, or Mr.Dan... And that was good.

The only hazardous material you knew about was a patch of grass burrs around the light pole at the corner... And that was good.

You loved to climb into a fresh bed because sheets were dried on the clothesline... And that was good.

People generally lived in the same hometown with their relatives, so "child care" meant grandparents, or aunts and uncles... And that was good.

Parents were respected and their rules were law. Children did not talk back... And that was good.

TV was in black-and-white, but all outdoors was in glorious color... And that was certainly good.

Your Dad knew how to adjust everybody's carburettor. And the Dad next door knew how to adjust all the TV knobs... And that was very good.

Your grandma grew snap beans in the back yard and chickens behind the garage ... And that was definitely good.

And just when you were about to do something really bad... Chances were you'd run into your Dad's high school coach... Or the nosy old lady from up the street... Or your little sister's piano teacher... Or somebody from Church... ALL of whom knew your parents' phone number... And YOUR first name... And even THAT was good! 

Didn't that feel good, just to go back and say, Yeah, I remember that!  And was it really that long ago?

[Thank you, Susan.  As you said: "I'll drink to that!"]

[And do you remember when words had different meanings?  So innocent and so delightful? So many lovely words have been usurped and mostly with dubious sexual connotation.

I had many a gay time in the old days.  Nowadays such a confession would call my sexuality into question.

There was a lovely story for children about the little Dutch boy who AVERTED a catastrophe by sticking his finger in a dyke.  Nowadays he would CAUSE a catastrophe.]